


Made of Lightning

by TheMagicWord



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 13:04:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15073754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMagicWord/pseuds/TheMagicWord
Summary: Harry was hoping someone would come and talk to him at the rooftop party. He wasn't expecting a boy who literally fizzes with energy and can predict storms.





	Made of Lightning

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this when I was avoiding writing something else.

“That’s not going to work, mate.”

Harry glanced back in the direction of the voice. “Sorry?”

“Photos of the moon never turn out. Unless you’ve got a brilliant camera.”

“I have got a brilliant camera,” Harry said. “But it’s at home.” He zoomed the screen a little, but the boy - whoever he was - was right, the picture would be shit. Or maybe actually… he tapped. It was shit.

“Told you,” the boy said. At some point he’d come closer and now he was standing so close that Harry could feel the heat and some sort of energy vibrating off him. He turned to look. He was pretty: small and curvy with soft brown hair and bright blue eyes. He was holding a bottle of Corona in his hand, 28 tattooed on his fingers. Harry wanted to ask what it meant, but he hated when people asked him that about his own tattoos.

“I’m Harry,” he said instead.

“Good to meet you.” He held his hand out. “Louis.”

Harry gripped Louis’s hand in his much larger one and felt… something. That energy again. As if this boy was crackling with it.

“Do you… Can you feel that?” Harry asked. “Sorry if that’s weird, I—”

“No. S’not weird. And yeah, I can. It’s a storm.”

Harry looked out across the clear purple-blue sky. It had been an incredibly hot day - the taxi driver had told him it was thirty-one degrees - and he knew a storm wasn’t forecast cos he’d checked the weather that morning before deciding what to wear to the party.

“I don’t think…”

“I know. But it is. This has happened my whole life.”

“What?”

Louis crouched to put his beer down on the ground and then turned to face Harry, holding his hands out. Harry’s stomach flipped and all sorts of nonsense flickered through his mind. He’d take Louis’s hands and they’d both disappear - poof! - to another dimension. Or a different time. Or Louis would be able to read his mind. He really didn’t want Louis to read his mind.

Louis raised an eyebrow.

Shit.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Louis said. “C’mon.”

Harry’s arms seemed to be lifting of their own accord, fingers stretching towards Louis’s. Their fingertips touched first and there was a definite vibration, gentle, like the early stages of pins and needles. But then Harry slid his palms against Louis’s and Louis wrapped his fingers around Harry’s hands and squeezed, gently, quickly, just once.

They didn’t disappear. They were still on the roof, the sky now purple-orange behind Louis’s head. Harry didn’t know if Louis could see his thoughts, but all he could see was Louis. Louis in his bed, white sheets billowing over their heads. Louis on his knees looking up at him under his lashes. Louis with his head thrown back with laughter. Louis looking at him over the top of a mug of tea. Louis Louis Louis.

“I’d say twenty minutes,” Louis said.

“What?” Harry had drunk maybe three beers? Four? He wasn’t pissed.

“Til the storm.”

Harry shook his head again. “Look at the sky.”

They were still holding hands. Harry wondered what Louis would do if Harry pulled on his arms until his whole body followed and Harry could press him into the small wall that ran around the roof and kiss him until they were both fizzing with it.

Louis pulled his hands away and picked up his beer, leaning his elbows on the wall and staring out over the city.

“I can’t believe I’m here.”

“I still think that,” Harry said. “And I’ve been here a year.”

They talked a bit then - about their backgrounds, families, what they were both doing in New York. Harry wanted to step behind Louis and press up against him: Harry’s front to Louis’s back. He could kiss him between his shoulder blades, wrap an arm around his chest and hold him still while he canted his hips against—

“Look,” Louis said.

Harry looked. In the distance a band of cloud was just appearing, rolling towards them.

“Fuck,” Harry murmured.

“Never fails,” Louis said.

“We should probably go inside.” Harry looked around the roof. It was still busy, groups of people chatting and drinking and laughing. Music playing. Although he hadn’t noticed the music since he’d started talking to Louis. There’d been food earlier, but it had gone now. And the fairy lights around the perimeter were starting to light up. It was pretty. But not as pretty as Louis.

“Full disclosure,” Louis said and Harry turned back to look at him. “Niall told me to come and talk to you.”

“Ah,” Harry said, shuffling slightly. “Right.” He’d hoped Louis had seen him across the roof and headed over specifically to talk to him. He’d been hoping for someone to do that all night. He hadn’t expected someone like Louis.

“He said you want someone to kiss you,” Louis said. He’d been staring down at his fingers on his beer bottle, but now he looked up at Harry, eyes bright, forehead furrowed.

“Oh god,” Harry said. “I’m sorry. He thinks he’s funny. He—”

“I’d like it though,” Louis said. “If you were still interested.”

Harry’s mouth was dry, but his drink was empty. If he was a braver person, he’d reach for Louis’s beer, let their fingers brush, stare into Louis’s eyes as he wrapped his lips around the bottle and—

A crack of thunder rattled the roof. Someone actually screamed. And then rain burst over them all, like a shower turning on. Harry shivered and actually tipped his head back to look at the sky, water pouring over his face. The roof was chaos, everyone grabbing their stuff and running towards the doors to the stairwell. Only Harry wasn’t moving. Only Harry and Louis.

“Told ya,” Louis said.

Harry looked at him. He was already soaked, his hair sticking to his face, raindrops gathered in his long eyelashes.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He closed it again and reached out to touch Louis, half-wondering if he’d still be electric, if Harry would get a shock. Instead he found wet skin that was still somehow warmed from the sun. He curled his hand around the back of Louis’s neck and Louis stepped closer. And closer. Until he was so close Harry couldn’t focus on his face. Harry closed his eyes, dipped his head, tightened his hand and pressed the fingers of his other hand into Louis’s waist. Finally, finally, his mouth found Louis’s. He tasted like rain.

Even though Harry’s eyes were closed, he still saw the lightning when it came.


End file.
